


A Path Unfolding: The Story of Diquoas's Beginnings

by TheGoblinWitch



Category: Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types, Original Work
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Betrayal, Body Horror, Family Feels, Gen, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Mild Gore, Multi, Mystical Creatures, Religious Fanaticism, Religious Guilt, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:41:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21782347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGoblinWitch/pseuds/TheGoblinWitch
Summary: A 'cursed' child, born to a highly feared and respected Matron Mother among the Drow; hidden away until she could fulfil her expected potential. Raised to overcome the highest of expectations, and her only solace being her father, a man sold into slavery under her Mother's hold long before her birth.After a desperate escape, their hope finally shining at the prospect of their new future, things take a turn for the worst.This is the story of Diquoas: an albino Drow war-cleric of Beshaba, and the tale that led her onto her bloody path of adventure. And how she came to her current goal.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	A Path Unfolding: The Story of Diquoas's Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> A Character Origin story for a friend of mine~  
> I truly got enveloped in her as a character and hope I did her justice~

The sound of chimes rang in Diquoas’s ears, her tiny heart hammering in time with each resonating tingle as her bare feet slapped against the stone temple floor. She dared not be late for training with the other drow daughters, the young priestesses in training, lest she would face more cut-throat punishment from the temple’s priestesses. 

She swallowed a lump in her throat as the thought of the High Priestess, her own mother, came to mind. The woman she feared and loathed the most of them all. 

Tugging the hood of her cloak over her hair and face, drawing the fabric closer around herself, she crept into the massive hallway, slipping behind the last row of blossoming prepubescent young drow, only years older than herself. 

Silent prayers to Lolth were an ardent plea in her mind until she felt a hand slip around her wrist, tugging her further into the crowd of girls. 

Diquoas barely contained a startled yip, a second hand slapping over her mouth and shushing her as she was yanked into position. Her back went rigid, her posture instinctually finding perfect form as her chin tilted up slightly, her hands folded behind her back and her eyes flicking to the side in an attempt to see her attacker as her heart pounded.

Glimmering silver eyes glinted at her from beneath a matching robe, adorned in the symbol of a priestess in training, for a mere moment before facing forward as well, assuming the same memorized position. 

A low voice whispered towards her, barely audible. “Where WERE you?! You were almost late! The Matron Mother is almost here. Do you LIKE getting beaten to death or are you just stupid?”

Diquoas rolled her eyes and curled her lip at the other girl menacingly, whispering back harshly. 

“I was in the temple…”

The opposite girl’s head whipped to look at her, her face coming into full view for a split second. Long silver braids framed her narrow face, her eyes wide in shock. Her skin was as smooth and dark as night. She was beautiful. The absolute epitome of a future Priestess of Lolth and everything Diquoas wished she was. 

She silently beat away the jealousy that rose within her towards her best, and sole friend.

The girl turned her head back to face forward, her face suddenly a calm, emotionless mask once again. 

“Again?... And?”

Diiquoas grit her jaw so tightly that her teeth ground, her entire head beginning to ache. A slow breath released from her nose. 

“Nothing… still… nothing.” 

Her eyes flicked to look at her friend through her peripheral vision, catching the poorly masked look of pity that dripped from the girl’s face. And if she weren’t mistaken, just for a second, maybe even a moment of… was that disgust? She shook the thought away. There was no way. She struggled enough ignoring pitying looks from her sole friend. Diquoas couldn’t stand the idea that Zilvra would be like the others. 

The sounds of footsteps across the stone floor made what few whispers were lingering the Great Hall fall silent. Every girl suddenly stood taller, all eyes falling on the Matron Mother Einrulenth Quneivrac as she entered the room. The High Priestess of Lolth. And Diquoas’s mother. 

A flurry of other female drow tailed behind her, some of them fellow Priestesses and Clerics of Lolth. Others, Diquoas knew otherwise. A select few, standing easily a hand or two higher than the others, were minions of her mother. Demons disguised as drow, merely wearing humanoid forms. Yochlol raised to do her bidding and punish anyone who dared cross the household or anyone she dubbed an enemy of Lolth. 

The other drow, even the other clerics and priestesses, knew of the creatures, but few of them had seen their true forms as up close and personal as Diquoas. Disgusting, filthy, tentacled creatures that made her stomach churn. 

Ever since she’d had the displeasure of… ‘encountering’ them, seeing them at all brought up foul memories. She’d learned to recognize them. At least most of the time. It was both useful, and, frankly, a pain. 

One of the Yochlol glanced back in her direction, catching her gaze for a moment before tapping her mother’s shoulder. Leaning in, it whispered into her ear, earning a nod in response. 

Diquoas felt a chill run down her back, hatred filling her belly as the both of them shared awful smiles before picture perfect masks returned to their expressions. 

The Matron Mother took a few more swift steps, finally centered before the hall. Her entourage filled in around her, taking their appointed places, prostrating themselves as they lowered to their knees behind and around her. Everything about her emanated the power and respect she demanded.

Suddenly Diquoas swallowed the lump in her throat, she knew the words that were coming by heart. The scene unfolding was one that was engraved into her brain; it was a near daily routine after all. 

Her mother’s eyes swept over the numerous girls faces, barely visible from under their cloaks, finally meeting Diquoas, pausing on the pale, albino skin that peeked out from beneath her hook. Hate filled the woman’s eyes for only a heartbeat before a smile split her face, turning Diquoas’s stomach to lead. 

Perfectly painted lips opened, and Diquoas waited for the words of prayer, calling on Lolth to guide their training, to begin. Instead, an ear piercing wail rose from the woman’s mouth. 

Diquoas slammed her hands over her ears, trying to block out the noise, but try as she might, the sound kept growing louder. It felt like her bones would shatter if it kept up. Terror filled her, her body shaking as she looked up towards the woman, only to see her staring directly back at her. A long, taloned finger pointed directly at her, accusingly, the woman’s mouth splitting even wider as she continued to shriek. 

Movement caught Diquoas’s attention from the woman’s opposite hand. She realized what it was a second too late, panic filling her as putrid tentacles extended from the tentacle rod and began to wrap around her body, binding her tightly as they pulled her closer to the screaming apparition. 

All at once, Diquoas jolted forward, clutching at her chest and panting heavily. She looked around the empty room and gathered her thoughts for a moment. It had been another damned nightmare. Standing from the bed of the small hut, she wobbled over to the mirror. She braced a hand against the wall and looked at her haggard reflection, letting out an irritated sigh before grabbing a cloth to wipe the sweat that had formed a light sheen across her skin. 

Memories of her childhood flooded her mind as the dream simmered so freshly at the surface of the thoughts. She paused and couldn’t help but let out a snort of laughter at the exaggerated depiction of her mother her subconscious had embedded in her mind since childhood. 

Looking back to the mirror, her gaze slid over the long healed welts and scars marring her body. Then again, maybe it wasn’t such an exaggeration, after all. 

Gritting her teeth, she snarled as thoughts of the woman brought up dozens of thoughts. Old memories, as well as newer ones. Along with old emotions and fresh ones. She clenched her fists. She’d get it done… she would. She just had to take care of what was in front of her first.

Diquoas finished cleaning herself up and made her way outside of the small hut, immediately making her rounds and checking on everyone. She was discreet, of course. She didn’t like taking away part of her day to do this, but especially after everything that had happened, she couldn’t get to work for the day comfortably until she knew everyone was safe and accounted for. 

Her route finished, she met up with a few of the men and stronger women from the village who were already hard at work, raising a wall of a new building. Stepping up behind the group, she pressed her hands against the frame, bracing herself and pushing with all her might. 

A few happy shouts of thanks were turned her way as they went about securing the wall at its joints, attaching the rafters in turn while she and a few others put the braces into places. 

Once the building was secure enough, Diquoas stepped back, clapping her hands together before placing them on her hips, satisfied with the progress they were making. 

A hand slapped on her shoulder, catching her attention. One of the older men of the tribe, a shorter, gangly man who had been alive through several of the wars, smiled at her. 

“You’re doing good work, Diquoas. We appreciate it. We wouldn’t be getting the village built nearly as quickly without you.” 

She returned the smile, shrugging a single shoulder awkwardly. 

“It’s the least I can do… especially considering…”

Her voice trailed off, unable to finish her statement. 

The man held up a hand, shaking his head. “No one blames you, girl. Do not blame yourself. You know Valirn wouldn’t want you to do so either…”

The man’s eyes shifted as the name slid past his lips, realizing his error. 

Diquoas’s stomach clenched; biting down her emotions she merely nodded in response, forcing a smile. 

The man’s face saddened. “Instead of going after him you chose to stay and help us… we can never thank you enough, child.”

Diquoas’s expression finally softened, her smile more genuine. She shook her head. 

“No. All of you are special to me… I need to take care of everyone here before I can go after my father. He wouldn’t want it any other way, either.”

The man smiled, nodding. “You’re not wrong there… though…” 

Waving towards a younger drow, he beckoned her over. A small group hurried over, crowding around her, alongside the elder. 

“You have helped us plenty, child. The village is nearly completely rebuilt… the rest we can handle on our own… This will always be your home and you will always be welcome. But, know you can leave to seek him out and we will be okay in your absence.” 

Diquoas smiled at the group, fighting off tears from her eye. 

The sight of the young drow girl stepping forward, before the others, caught her attention. 

The young girl held out a box to her. It was simple wood, with a few carvings along the lid and sides. 

Confusion seeped across her face as she looked at the box, and then to the elder. 

He nodded in return and indicated to take it as he spoke up. 

“As thanks for all you have done for us… you saved many of us, and then stayed behind to help rebuild. We wanted to make something to show our gratitude. Especially since you lost yours while saving so many of our own lives...”

Opening the box gingerly, inside she found a golden eye, rest in soft velvet fabric. It was a beautiful piece and made her chest tighten. She hadn’t received many gifts in her life, let alone something like this. 

Returning her gaze to the group before her, she barely contained a choked sob. Nodding, she managed to speak, her voice straining to steady. “Thank you…” 

The elder smiled at her emotional reception of the item. 

“We also… wanted to rename the new village Plarron, in honor of your father. If you didn’t mind.”

Diquoas looked up at that, stunned for a moment before smiling softly. “Yeah… Yeah that’s fine.”

Looking at the golden eye in her hands, Diquoas silently swore that this little village that had wormed its way into her heart would never suffer again. Not if she had ANYTHING to do with it.

As evening fell, Diquoas sat in her hut, staring at the golden eye. Her wounds were healed enough, she could go ahead and put it in. 

Having to wear and eyepatch or look at the empty, caved in socket was tiring anyway. 

Plus, she couldn’t deny feeling a strange… draw towards the item. 

Taking a breath, she picked up the orb in one hand and held open the lids of her eye with the other. Pressing it in carefully, unsure if she was doing so correctly or not. It seemed to slip into place surprisingly easy though. 

Clenching her eyes shut for a moment, letting the foreign item settle, she focused on the feeling of it. It was almost strange how perfectly it fit… it didn’t feel foreign at all… Blinking her eyes, she stepped over to the mirror to inspect the eye. A satisfied smile crossed her face as she took in her appearance. Reaching up with a finger, she prodded the golden eye and smirked. 

“Not bad…” 

As she stood inspecting the eye, a sudden feeling of lightheadedness overtook her, her body stumbling back until she had to sit on her small bed. She held her head in her hands as blackness overtook her. 

Blinking in confusion, Diquoas looked around, only to find pitch blackness in every direction. 

An ethereal laugh started to bubble up, filling her from the inside out, making her entire body thrum and vibrate. The laughter continued until it echoed through the vast, empty space. 

Looking around, Diquoas squinted. “Who is there?” 

The laughter stopped all at once, silence overtaking her, shaking her to her core. 

A dripping sound grabbed her attention. Turning to look at it, she spied a pair of antlers, suspended in mid air, dripping with blood. As each drop of deep red blood plipped away into the black abyss, the red seeped into it, slowly ebbing away at the void until the red started to consume around her. 

The same laughing voice spoke up again, appearing behind her this time. The voice spoke in sweet, dulcet tones that struck a curious fear into Diquoas. 

“You’ve experienced so much misfortune, my child… I have had my eye on you for a long time now…” 

Diquoas turned around but found no one there. 

“Who are you? Lolth?” 

Laughter ripped through the space before settling down. “Child, Lolth rejected you… thinking you accursed for your appearance. For daring not to abide to your people’s ideals. No… I am not Lolth. I am someone much better… I am Beshaba.” 

Diquoas swallowed hard, awe sinking into her. In all her life she had tried to commune with the Gods, rejected and shunned thoroughly. And now Beshaba was calling to her? The hair on her arms stood on end. 

“Why do you call me?” 

Diquoas stepped back instinctively as a woman appeared before her, only inches away from her face. Long white hair framed a beautiful pale face. She wore dark clothes, tight around her supple frame. 

“You are missing an eye, not ears, my child. Listen better… I have been watching you. You have lived a life of such misfortune. How would you like to have the power to get revenge on those who have wronged you and those you love?” 

Diquoas stood straighter at the woman’s words, her eyes lighting up. “Of course!” 

A coy smile graced those perfect lips. “Then become my cleric child… wage war on the world. Be my Priestess and worship me. Spread my word and I will give you the power you seek to take down any foe who dares hurt your or your loved ones…” 

Leaning forward, the woman pressed into Diquoas, kissing her deeply, curling a hand around her neck and pulling her in deeper. 

It felt as if the very air was escaping her. As if she was going to drown, but she couldn’t fight it. 

Letting herself collapse into the feeling, Diquoas fell limp. 

Lurching forward, Diquoas took a breath, looking around her small room. Blinking quickly, she got up from the bed and tottered towards her mirror. The golden eye was still where she had placed it. 

Had that been an elaborate dream. 

She looked to her hand, flexing her fingers before making a fist. 

No. She felt it. She felt different. 

A toothy smile crept across her face as a laugh bubbled up from her chest. Her laughter continued, growing louder until she finally calmed catching her breath. 

Looking in the mirror, she looked at the jewelry around her neck. Pieces she had been adorned with ever since entering her training to first become a cleric. She felt herself slipping into a long forgotten memory, before she could stop herself. 

Memories of the countless days and nights, hidden away from drow society, nothing more than a shameful secret, her mother would punish her for not connecting to Lolth. 

Was it not bad enough that the Matron Mother’s own daughter was a repulsive pale skin, a child of a slave, but to not even be able to do her duty and become a Priestess of Lolth? The brutal beatings she received still burned fresh in her mind. It wasn’t uncommon for her to be beaten inches from death, the only thing that kept her alive being her father’s tending to her injuries. Or Gods’ forbid the times he dares get in between herself and her mother when she was inflicting one of her punishments. 

Diquoas smiled up at the mirror before her, the look in her eyes wild, bordering on feral. 

“Fuck you, Mother… It was never me… It was Lolth all along.” 

Her fist met with the mirror, shattering it to pieces as her smile quirked slightly, her voice lowering. 

“But I’ve got Beshaba in my corner now…”

Diquoas stirred, the feeling of someone stroking her hair making her stir from her slumber. Groaning she turned to look at who was next to her, only to hear a soothing shushing sound. 

Why was their voice so soothing? 

Oh, who cared. 

Curled back up, she settled in, curling next to the other person with a soft huff. She felt herself linger on the edge of sleep, unable to fully settle for some reason for a good while. 

The sound of shouting made her stir awake, jolting up and glancing around. 

Momentary panic set in when she didn’t recognize her room. The sounds of more shouting came from outside the room. 

Rising from the makeshift bed, she crept towards the doorway, continuing to inspect her surroundings. 

The more she looked, the more they seemed familiar, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on how…

The sound of a pained cry, alongside a loud thump, made her freeze in her steps. Pressing against the cold stone wall, she peeked around the corner, out the doorway, to investigate the source of the noise. 

As she did, a young, male drow stumbled through the doorway, bumping into her nose and knocking her to her rear. 

Holding her nose and scooting back in her panic, she stared up at the man, when suddenly recognition set in. 

Tears filled her eyes as the realization that she was dreaming cemented itself finally. 

Wavy, shoulder length, silver hair was tied back in a messy ponytail. His dark skin was marred and broken up by countless burns and scars. The only part of him left untouched was his face. The part that he was cherished for. Fluffy brows aided his gentle expression, as his wide face looked down at what he had bumped into in his rush. 

His already soft expression turned tender when he spied her, kneeling down and picking her up, letting her gangly limbs hangs down as he wearily held her. Despite his worn expression, a smile graced his lips, his eyes lighting up. 

“You shouldn’t be out here, Diquoas. Your mother’s in one of her moods… let's go back to the room, okay?”

Diquoas wrapped her small arms around her father’s neck, burrowing her face into the nook there. Dream or not, she would enjoy what moments she could get. Tears burned her eyes. 

Bringing her back to their small, shared room, he placed her on their bed. She felt so much guilt for her father having to live in this prison with her. Before her, at least, he had been able to live in the slaves’ quarters like the other slaves, where he wasn’t alone. Since she had been born, a curse upon their lives to be hidden away from the world, he had been locked away with her, to take care of the offspring that his genetics spawned. 

Looking up at her father, Diquoas fought off more tears. “Don’t go… She’s just going to hurt you more…” 

Valirn looked down at his daughter, smiling gently and stroking her fiery hair.

“It will be okay, starlight. I promise.” 

Diquoas buried her face in her pillow. He did this for years. Protecting her from her mother’s wrath as much as possible. 

Looking up, the sound of sobbing caught her attention. 

She realized her father was sitting next to her now, his shoulder heaving slightly as he rubbed her back. 

Diquoas instantly knew what memory she was dreaming of as she watched him shudder. 

Low mutters escaped him, barely audible. But Diquoas heard them. 

Quiet apologies and pleas for forgiveness under his breath, alongside promises that this was the end… 

Afterall, when it had just been himself getting beaten and punished, it was one matter… it was bad enough when Diquoas was punished and beaten for things dealing with her cleric training. But Einrulenth had nearly beaten Diquoas to death this time. Merely for pleasure. 

Valirn spent weeks at her bedside, nursing her back to life, promising and swearing that as soon as she was well, he would get her out of Menzoberranzan, and away from Einrulenth. 

Diquoas reached up, holding her father’s hand tightly and shushing him. 

“Stop crying, Valirn… Stop… we’re going to get out, you know? You do it… We get out…”

Tears welled in her eyes as she pleaded and tried to comfort him back, knowing it was to no avail. 

Falling back into a restless slumber, when she awoke again, she found herself in her room, where she belonged. Taking a deep breath, she angrily rubbed residual tears from her eyes. 

Today was the day…

~The Morning After the Escape of Valirn and Diquoas: House of Quneivrac ~ 

Einrulenth sat at the head of the table in her grande hall, a banquette fit for a queen laid out before her. 

She delicately placed her utensil on the marble table, directing her hand to the young male drow who stood shaking mere steps away from her. His head bowed low, prostrating himself before her, as all her slaves had learned early on to do. 

Her lip curled in disdain, her teeth clicking together. “Repeat those words…” 

The young man clenched his hands together tightly, swallowing audibly before speaking up quietly. “Valirn and your dau- I mean! Diquoas… they are missing, Mistress. There are reports from a guard that two drow matching their descriptions were spotted in the back alleys of the city early this morning, but no one has been able to find them… since… then…” 

The man’s words trailed off, his voice quivering. 

Einrulenth felt a wave of fury rock her body, her outward appearance barely moving a hair or giving away her surge of anger. The only give away to her burst of emotion was the suddenly deadly fire that rose in her eyes. 

The young man flinched, all too familiar with his Mistress’s rage. He clenched his eyes and bowed lower. “What would you like us to do, Mistress? Shall we send someone to pursue them?” 

A smile quirked at the corner of Einrulenth’s mouth, sending a cold shiver down the man’s spine. 

Her voice rolled over him, sultry and smooth. “No… they think they can escape me? They dare to shame me, to shame my house like this? I think this is a lesson I shall teach them myself…”

The fear that already had the man shaking in his spot made his blood run cold as her words rolled over him. “M-Mistress?” 

She waved a hand, snarling at him in disgust. “Now, get out of here, while I’m still in a pleasant mood. I have plans to attend to.” 

The man bowed again, thanking her profusely before scurrying out of the hall, his heart pounding with relief. 

The drow leaned forward, plucking a piece of fruit from her tray and popping it into her mouth, savoring it as her thoughts mulled over the situation at hand. 

That man had never had the daring to disobey her before. He had only become brazen once that filthy girl had been born. A thought came to her mind and her smile widened, lounging back in her throne of a chair, crossing her legs at the knees. That man had been in her care for so much of his life… he surely didn’t have many connections. There was only one place he would be taking that girl. 

Thoughts of the poor village filled her mind as a laugh bubbled up from her chest, slowly working it’s way into a cackle. 

“Oh, Valirn… you adorably stupid welp… to take her to Tille. You think you are taking her home, when really? You’re making this too easy for me… I think it’s time to teach you and that little bitch a lesson once and for all in obedience.” 

Rising from her seat, Einrulenth snapped her fingers lightly, multiple drow appearing from the shadows and kneeling before her. 

Staring down at them, her face a perfect mask once more, she gave her orders without a shred of mercy in her voice. 

“Saddle up. We’re going to Tille. We have a village to destroy.” 

Diquoas pulled her cloak tight around herself, taking in the small village warily. She watched her father greet the village elder warmly, tears in his eyes. There were many embraces; much of the small village overwhelmed at the sight of their long lost member. 

Heartfelt tears and apologies were whispered under hushed breaths, and Diquoas noticed her father shaking his head at each one, a gentle smile on his face. 

All at once, the whispers seemed to cease, the small crowd finally noticing her hooded figure skirting the edge of their gathering. 

Valirn stepped lightly over to her, placing a hand on her back and smiling wide, his eyes crinkling. 

“Everyone… This is Diquoas… my daughter. She is why I finally made my way back…” 

Diquoas slid her hands to the hood of her cloak, pausing for a moment before her father nodded, slipping it down to reveal herself to the group. She braced herself for their reactions. She was used to being considered an abomination amongst drow kind; being shunned for it. And that was before taking her scarring into account. 

As expected, a few members seemed slightly taken aback initially at her appearance. 

Her surprise set in when a young girl, still but a child, padded up to her and tugged her cloak curiously. 

Diquoas looked down at her in confusion. “U-um… what?” 

The girl pointed at her fiery red hair, her eyes wide. “Can I touch your hair? It’s pretty.”

Diquoas blinked for a moment, unsure what to say. She looked up to her father for a split second, trying to process the girl’s words. 

Valirn chuckled at her confusion over the girl’s amazement, waving a hand to her gently. 

Kneeling down, Diquoas nodded slowly. “Um… sure?” 

The little girl smiled wide, her face shining as she gingerly touched the locks. 

A few paces away, a ripple of ease seemed to work it’s way through the rest of the onlooking drow. The village elder smiled at Valirn warmly. “Any family of yours, child, is family of ours. Of course, she is welcome to join our fold.” 

Diquoas blinked up at the older man, processing his words as the little girl began to braid her hair over her shoulder. A strange feeling of warmth swelled in her chest. It was foreign, but altogether not… unpleasant. 

She silently wondered if this was how people were outside of the city. Outside of her mother’s clutches. 

If so, maybe this would be worth it, afterall. 

The village elder’s words indeed rang true, and within a few days they had established Diquoas and her father in a small hut on the edge of the village. She found that the children of the village were drawn to her; her appearance was somewhat of a beacon to them apparently. 

She didn’t mind them. As long as they were behaved, she let them play on and around her. Once they started to interfere with her work she would scare them off though, much to Valirn’s amusement. 

It hadn’t taken her long to find a niche in the village. She was strong, and another strong back was always useful. To her surprise, as much as her father pestered the village elder for a job around the village, he was repeatedly told there was none for him. 

Diquoas later found, in the private of a late night conversation over drinks with a fellow laborer, that it was because the elder still held feelings of guilt for having to let Valirn be sold into a life of slavery, when he was barely an adult. Let alone to a Matron Mother like Einrulenth Quneivrac. 

Diquoas nodded along, silently finding her respect for the elder growing, as well as her thanks towards him. 

After that evening, she made a point to task the children that enjoyed pestering her with keeping Valirn company. She was pretty sure he was onto her plan, but she didn’t care. Things were… comfortable. 

In a matter of a month’s time, the village had quickly begun to emanate the feeling of ‘home’. Something she had never before understood or experienced. There was a warmth to it that she cherished, and the people in it completed it. 

So when she awoke in the early hours one morning, long before the sun had risen, covered in sweat, she knew something was wrong. Since coming here, her sleep had slowly become more restful with each night, finally allowing her some semblance of peace for the first time in years. 

The nightmare she had awoken from though shook her to her core. Horrifying visions of the village she now called home burning. The kind village folk screaming and wailing, blood coating their bodies as demonic creatures and drow alike mutilated them. At the head of the siege, the smiling face of none other than her mother, her sadistic grin wide, showing teeth as she laughed at the misery unfolding around her. 

Diqoas clutched her chest, throwing herself from her bed in a hurry and running to her father’s bed. 

Shaking him desperately, she drew him from his slumber. “Valirn! Valirn, wake up! Father!” 

Valirn blinked wearily up at her, confusion etched across his brow. 

“W-what? What’s wrong?” 

Her eyes wide in fear, Diquoas clutched her night clothes by the shoulder. 

“I had a nightmare… of mother… I think she’s coming. We need to get out. We need to leave! Now!” 

Valirn relaxed into his bed, slipping a rough hand to his daughter’s cheek and stroking the scarred flesh tenderly with his thumb. 

“Shhh, hush. You’re not a child anymore, Diquoas. It’s just a nightmare… we got away… we’re safe now. I promise. Go back to sleep, starlight.” 

Diquoas let out a tired, frustrated grumble, pulling away his hand with a huff. The nickname from her childhood made her chest squeeze. A tiny voice in the back of her mind protested, but she ignored it, muttering out a response. “Alright, Father…” 

The sound of screams woke Diquoas from her slumber with a jolt. Her eyes flinging open, she jumped up, tossing on her clothes as quickly as she could and going to her father, who was now dressed as well, panic in his eyes. 

Gripping her shoulders, his eyes searched her desperately. “Are you okay? What’s going on?” 

Thoughts of her nightmare flashed through her mind, and Diquoas swallowed harshly. 

“I think I know… I just hope I’m not right…” 

Quickly stalking towards the front door of the hut, she halted, Valirn running into her bac. Glancing down, her gaze caught sight of her club staff, sticking out from under a blanket. She had considered getting rid of it; it had been from her training days for being a cleric. The idea of having a weapon on hand, one that she had training with, was one she couldn’t deny the reasoning behind though…

Swiping it up, she gripped the staff tightly, storming out of the hut and towards the center of the village, following the sounds of screaming. 

The smell of fire and smoke filled her nose and she turned her head, realizing that the treeline near the village had been set ablaze. A slew of villagers worked nearby, working hard to put the flames out before they could start to lick at the homes on the edge of the village. 

Ignoring her instinct to run and help extinguish the fire, she turned back toward the center of town, just in time to catch sight of a large group of tall drow, wielding various weapons. A few were atop giant, haired spiders, riding them as steeds. Her teeth ground as she spied a few familiar faces lying limp on the ground, tramped beneath the arachnids’ feet. Others lie nearby in pools of blood, still bright and flowing freely. 

From behind her, she heard a gasp, followed by a choke. The sound of Valirn barely containing a wretch. “O-oh Gods…” 

Diquoas’s grip on the staff tightened, a growl low in the back of her throat. “Mother…” 

A familiar, sadistic laugh bubbled up from behind them, permeating the air. 

“I don’t think you deserve to call me that, Diquoas… not that you ever have, you filthy rat.” 

Diquoas spun on her heal, her vision landing on the bane of her existence. The woman who had made her life hell from the day she came to exist. The woman who had tormented her father, subjected him to worse things than she ever had to experience. 

Long, silver hair draped down her back, contrasting to her inky black skin, so dark that she was the envy of every drow that faced her. Long narrow features, and shining white eyes stared down at Diquoas. Painted lips parted, showing off perfectly pointed teeth, snarling in contentment. In her grasp, the tentacle rod, with five inky black tentacles draping down from the end. Her black and purple riding outfit was stained with dark red splashes of blood. 

Diquoas snarled back at the woman. “What do you want, you bitch?”

Einrulenth’s lip curled in disgust. 

“You’ve gotten quite mouthy in your time out, haven’t you, child? How dare you… but if you must know… I’m here to take back what’s mine.” 

Diquoas braced herself, gripping the club staff in her hands. 

“I’ll never go back! You can’t make me!”

Another bone chilling laugh rose up from the Matron’s lips. 

“It seems you’re misunderstanding. You think you have a choice here.” 

Her laughter ceased and her expression went blank, her open hand raising as her fingers snapped. Her voice rang out, her command firm and resolute. 

“Kill them all. Destroy the village. I’m taking my property home.”

Screams and chaos filled the village again as the drow and Yochlol began to slaughter villagers indiscriminately. 

Diquoas screamed, lunged towards her mother with her club raised in the air, ready to strike. Just as she went to make contact though, Einrulenth used the rod to ensnare Valirn, yanking him in front of her with a laugh. 

Diquoas halted mere inches from his head, her eyes wide as she screamed. “No! You let him go! Coward!” 

Einrulenth gripped the tentacles binding the man, using him as a shield, cackling all the while. 

“Now… will you come along like a good little child?”

Diquoas stared into her father’s eyes, searching for an answer, some form of guidance in his gaze. 

Screams filled the air as time seemed to freeze. 

Valirn met her fearful stare, his gaze unwavering. Swallowing hard, he shouted out, letting himself be pulled back into the woman’s grasp without any resistance. 

“Get out of here! Don’t let her get both of us, Diquoas! Go! You can save everyone else, if you hurry!” 

Shocked horror bled into her expression, her grip on her club loosening. 

“Valirn… Dad! No!” 

Valirn shouted louder. “Hurry! They need you more! I’ll be okay!” 

Clenching her jaw until it hurt, Diquoas gripped the club staff tightly, turning as quickly as she could and launching towards the chaos unfolding behind her. Jumping into the fray, she slammed her club into the skull of a Yochlol as it reached for a familiar drow, the young girl that had braided her hair when she came to the village. 

A death rattle escaped the creature as its form melded into its natural state. Reaching down, she gripping the girl’s hand tightly, yanking her up and shoving her forward, towards an adult who was still standing. Biting back her worry for her father, she barked out orders. “Run! Get to safety! To the trees! I’ll take care of these bastards!”

The fight continued for hours; many were lost, and inevitably, the fire indeed spread to the village. As the flames overtook the village, Diquoas watched the remaining drow and Yochlol retreat, blood pouring down her eye where she had sustained one of her own many injuries in the battle. 

Amongst them, she found no sign of her mother or Valirn…

Clenching her fists tightly around her club, she slammed the end into a piece of rubble, letting out a harrowing cry that shook the very trees. 

Einrulenth sat within the lavish tent at her campsite, Valirn splayed out before her, tied and exposed. 

Leaning down, she smiled at the blank stare he continued to give the ceiling. 

“You can pretend you aren’t here all you want, Valirn… but I will make you suffer… I know you better than you think.” 

She paced around his form, tracing a sharp nail along his flesh. 

“You think you did some noble deed, giving yourself up to me to save that wretch?”

Slamming her fist down, she smiled wide, a manic smile splitting her face. Valirn’s eyes finally flicked to her. In all his years under her, he’d never seen her so… unhinged. 

“All you did was give me the key to getting her, Valirn… you stupid weakling… because now… if I hurt you… she will come RUNNING…” 

Realization began to sink in and Valirn’s eyes filled with horror. His stomach sank and he shook his head. 

“She won’t come for me. She knows not to.” 

Einrulenth laughed, picking up a long, ceremonial dagger, licking along the edge as she stared at him. 

“We both know better than that, Valirn…”

Reaching down, she pressed the point of the blade to his shoulder, a droplet of blood pooling to the surface as he let out a tiny hiss of pain. 

“Now… I can’t very well go crippling your legs… what use is a slave that can’t walk? But an arm, now that is quite useless… were you left or right handed, Valirn? I don’t remember?” 

Before the man could let out a breath of a word, she slid the blade through the joint of his shoulder, beginning to sever the limb. A bitter howl ripped from the man’s throat as she continued to remove the limb.

“Oops. I guess, it doesn’t matter now…” 

Diquoas stirred from her slumber, blinking up at the swaying treetops above her. Muttering curses under he breath, she rose from her bedroom and tended her fire, making herself a drink and pulling some rations from her bag. 

It had been some weeks since she had left the village of Plarron. It had been as many since she had become a cleric of Beshaba. 

Things had certainly changed in that short time. Even if most of them were subtle. The largest transition was living on the road. She missed the quaint village and it’s inhabitants already. 

She would be back, though. 

Glancing at the sky, she took note of the fading darkness, only a few stars still visible in the early dawn’s rays. Her chest squeezed as she looked at the stars, her father’s loving term of endearment for her albino skin rose from the recesses of her mind. Not a night went by that she wasn’t reminded, now. 

Shaking away the thought, she rolled up her bedroll, making quick work of packing up her makeshift camp. She had become quite practiced since setting out on her own. 

Holding her club staff in her hand, she hiked down the worn road, mindlessly trekking towards her latest lead. 

The smell of a smoldering fire nearby caught her attention, making her stray from the path slightly. It was probably just another travelling party, but just to be sure, she wanted to investigate. 

Sure enough, when she found the source, it was nothing more than a small party of adventurers, rekindling their fire from the night before to prepare their breakfast.

Creeping along the treeline, she ensured that she stayed out of sight, staying downwind as she watched the group. 

The thought crossed her mind that, back in the city, in her youth, she would have been expected to slit their throats had she come upon this situation. Rob them blind and worry only for what she could make off of the travellers. 

For a brief moment, she raised the club staff, considering doing just that, an instinct from her days of youth. As her mind wandered, though, she realized she had no real motivation. 

She personally had no qualms with these travellers. They wouldn’t be worth her energy or time. All for what? Just the benefit of having taken a few meager possessions and some coin?

Putting away her club staff, she began to make her way away from the camp. 

Her dismissal of the other party lead to carelessness though, her departure alerting them to her presence. 

One of the party members looked up towards her, shouting out, “Who goes there?” 

Sighing, Diquoas stepped out of the treeline and into the small clearing. Raising her hands upwards, she tried to show she was of no threat. 

“I don’t want any trouble. I was just passing by.”

A familiar voice spoke up from the side of the camp, a tall figure standing from beside the fire. 

“Diquoas? Is that you?” 

Diquoas blinked in confusion as she processed the voice. 

“Zilvra? Is that you?” 

The woman smiled at her. “Well, what do you know!” 

Diquoas smiled brightly, stepping towards the other drow. The other woman had grown only more beautiful as she had aged, growing into her features well. Her only friend from those awful days in her training…

Zilvra pat her shoulder, her smile wide. “Why don’t you join us, old friend? It’s been too long!” 

Diquoas paused, watching her friend’s smile suspiciously. She couldn’t place what it was about it, but something about it was… off. 

Diquoas had learned long ago to trust her gut; friend or no, she needed to be wary. She was on a mission, anyway. 

She returned the affectionate touch on her friend’s shoulder as well, giving a remorseful look. 

“I’m sorry, Zilvra… but as I said, our meeting was just a stroke of luck from the Gods. I really need to be on my way…” 

Zilvra’s grip on her shoulder tightened, the smile no longer reaching her eyes. 

“I insist, Diquoas… we have much to talk about… you have no idea what you caused after all.” 

Diquoas’s eyes widened slightly, her brows furrowing. “What?” 

The smile on Zilvra’s lips turned into a snarl, the other members of her party starting to circle around the two drow, closing them in. 

“After you pulled your little stunt, you have no idea the aftermath you caused for our sect. The Matron Mother Quneivrac was never like… this before. Subjecting people to things like she has been. Before? Oh, she was a beautiful, ruthless queen! But now? All she can focus on is you and your filthy slave of a breeder father… Why else do you think I left the city?”

Zilvra smiled sweetly, tilting her head. “I came to find you and bring you to the Matron Mother! I even hired these wonderful adventurers! It’s amazing what people will do for some worthless coin… Imagine the favor I’ll gain if I present her your head!” 

Diquoas felt disgust and betrayal rip through her violently as she watched the smile split her childhood friend’s face. 

Gritting her teeth, rage seethed within her, quickly overpowering the betrayal until all she could see was red. 

She was no longer the same girl she was back then though…

Feeling the power of Beshaba welling up within her, she focused the power into her club staff and swung upwards, knocking the other drow back with one swing. 

Using her momentum, she quickly swung around, knocking back another party member. 

Her rage fueling her, she slew the adventurers. They’d made a deadly mistake taking on this particular mission…

Turning to the unconscious body of her childhood friend, Diquoas raised the club over her head, bracing herself to swing it dowards with as much force as she could muster…. Only to stop. 

Letting the club swing down low, she kicked the other woman’s prone form, spitting on her face for good measure. 

“For being my only friend all those years… this is the only time I show mercy…” 

Storming away from the campsite, Diquoas grumbled and cursed under her breath. After all she had done to avoid an altercation! She had gone out of her way to not hurt them. She could have robbed them blind and chose not to! And then they had to go and…

She cursed again, kicking a branch out of her path. 

Tilting her head back, she let out a sigh. 

Her mind wandered to the little village she called home… she wondered how they were doing, if everyone was safe and well. She missed them.

She soothed her thoughts as she reminded herself that she would be back. 

As soon as she killed the Matron Mother of the House of Queivrac with her own two hands…

And when she returned, she’d do so with her father.

**Author's Note:**

> I appreciate comments and Kudos!  
> I have created character origin stories before for myself and my partner, but this was my first time tackling a project like this for someone else~


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